


Training

by RaisinPastry



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Slow Burn, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisinPastry/pseuds/RaisinPastry
Summary: Manny is a chubby omega that wants to lose some weight. Because what alpha could want him as he is?
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 45
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

Manny stands at his open locker, listening, waiting as the only other two omegas in the room head for the door. They're chatting about the cardio instructor, how he's too good-looking to not be taken, but Jesus, wouldn't it be nice to date an alpha _like that_? He sighs when he finally hears the door shut and reaches to tug his sweatshirt over his head. Every inch of exposed skin reveals more of his unflattering body, the round hugeness of his stomach, the droopy water balloons that are supposed to be perky omega tits. Just a glance downward sends a flame of self-hatred blazing through him. The last time Manny changed in front of someone else was in middle school, back before he presented. Things had been different then but he'd still been chubby. And if he hadn't lost weight when his metabolism was better and faster than it would ever be, was there even a chance in hell of losing it now at twenty-three?

Might as well get it over with, Manny thinks, forcing his leggings up his legs. The stretchy fabric squeezes and strains against the cellulite of his thighs, like overstuffed tamales. Manny pulls the hem of his tank top down over his stomach and he's good to go. He passes a mirror on his way out of the locker room and tries to ignore the way the tank top clings to his lumpy figure, accentuating every fat roll. Maybe this will be the day he finally cancels his gym membership and stops putting himself through this abuse. But first he has to get through cardio class.

Manny must walk through the weight room to get to the fitness studios, and on the way he passes red-faced betas pumping iron on the machines and even beefier alphas lifting twice that in free weights. One machine is a little closer than others and a handsome alpha is stationed there, stiffly working his lats. He sniffs and glances at Manny as he goes by. His eyes slide away, uninterested. After a million times, Manny would think that would stop hurting.

Manny opens the door to Studio 1 and takes in the sight of beta women and omegas already sprawled across the glossy wooden floor, laying out yoga mats. They're all partnered up. Manny's hand tightens on the door handle as he considers turning around and leaving before the entire class witnesses his humiliation.

"Hey Manny, I was getting worried you wouldn't show." At the front of the room stands the cardio instructor, a tall alpha with an athletic build, thick biceps, and a sleek cut of sandy blonde hair. Call me Spencer, he'd said in Manny's first class two months ago. Manny hasn't stopped swooning since. Spencer crosses his arms in front of his chest, putting his toned forearms on display and making Manny's cheeks flush splotchy red. "Since we've got odd numbers today, why don't you grab a mat and I'll be your partner for warm-ups."

Manny nods, swallowing his regret. He should've worn his sweatpants today, his legs really do look awful in anything tight. He hates tank tops too, prefers baggier things that hide his flabby arms down to his wrists, but he knows from experience that anything long-sleeved will give him sweat spots on his armpits. Said awful experience happened on his first day, right in front of Spencer, who didn't bother to comment. Just like that alpha in the weight room, Spencer probably sees Manny as unfuckable. As an omega that makes him worthless.

Feeling defeated, Manny lays back on the mat like a sacrifice. Spencer wraps a solid hand around his right ankle and lifts Manny's leg into the air, instructing the rest of the class to do the same to their partners. Manny closes his eyes, pain twinging down his hamstring like sour notes on a guitar. He focuses on the steady strength of Spencer's hand, the warmth of his calloused palm against Manny's skin and imagines how it would feel on other parts of his body, on more sensitive areas of skin.

"Manny," Spencer says.

Manny's eyes fly open and he gazes up at Spencer, who's leaning over him with a sort of amused look.

"How're you doing?"

Manny blushes. The stretch, he's talking about the stretch. So rare is his interaction with alphas, these completely professional moments with Spencer are always tainted by Manny's dirty imagination and his pathetic longing. "It's —uh. It hurts."

Spencer nods. "I can feel you easing into it though. Just keep your muscles relaxed and it'll get easier. Alright class, time to switch legs."

The rest of the stretches are heaven, with Spencer's hands on him for every single exercise, one way or another. Manny even gets a full inhale of _alpha_ when Spencer leans over Manny's shoulder to offer advice.

"Keep it up, you're doing fantastic," Spencer encourages as he's holding Manny's feet during sit-ups. Spencer's not wrong—Manny has never moved faster in his life. It's all thanks to Spencer's gaze focused on him like a spotlight, evaluating him, seeing just how good an omega Manny can be. Manny wants to impress, wants to be good for an alpha.

"And...time." Spencer's warm hold disappears from Manny's ankles and Manny frowns, watching Spencer get to his feet. "Warm-ups are over. Put the mats away and we'll start with two minutes of easy cardio to get your hearts pumping. High knees and lateral shuffles in place, sound good?"

There's a general murmur among the class. Manny dejectedly starts rolling up his sweaty mat, already missing Spencer's scent and nearness, trying to come to terms with the fact that he'll never be touched so gently by an alpha ever again. What hurts even more is Spencer is so nearby, kneeling next to a speaker. He plugs his phone into it and straightens up, lazily scrolling on his phone.

"Any suggestions?" Spencer asks.

Manny breathes in sharply. Spencer's eyes flick up, and he knows, must've seen from his peripheral vision, that Manny was staring. The corner of his mouth is quirked.

"On...exercise routines?" Manny guesses.

"Songs. I usually play trance or techno, but I got a complaint last week. An omega came up to me after class and told me my music was too 'distracting' and it gave them a migraine."

"Oh," Manny says. He doesn't like Spencer's taste in music much either.

"You don't sound surprised," Spencer says, narrowing his eyes.

"W—well…" Manny wants to say something sweet and comforting, like tastes vary and you shouldn't take it personally, but it gets all sticky in his throat like overly-sugary gum and the silence ends up stretching longer, longer.

Spencer stares at him for a few seconds before a playful smile steals over his lips. "Ouch, that hurts Manny. So mind telling what kind of music omegas do enjoy? Since it's apparently common knowledge my taste is garbage."

"Maybe try some classic rock? Or pop or hip-hop or, um. I don't know, my tastes are pretty generic...Oh wait. Before I started coming here, I imagined gyms always played those motivating songs from sports movies. You know, like that training montage in Rocky?

"Training music?" Spencer echoes, hiking an eyebrow.

"Or...I don't know." Manny sighs. "Ask someone else maybe?''

Spencer shrugs and taps something out on his phone. "Three straight lines," he says, projecting to the class, "Spread out so you can all see yourselves in the mirror." Spencer sets his phone down on the speaker and heads toward the front of the room. 'Eye of the Tiger' starts blasting over the speakers and Manny isn't sure whether to melt with embarrassment or throw up from how nervous Spencer is making him. Instead an unexpected laugh tumbles out of his chest. Spencer meets his eyes across the room and grins. "Come on, let's start moving those feet. With today's soundtrack, you don't have any excuse not to do your best."

"I fucking love this song," a beta woman says to her friend, who laughs just as sincerely as Manny did.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

Manny is towelling the sweat off his body, smiling, just to himself. He doesn't see the workout machines or the muscular alphas sweating on them, doesn't hear the pounding beat bouncing off the walls. Manny glides through the weight room, lost somewhere in his head where all he can see is Spencer's smile, and Spencer's voice calling out behind him.

_Good job today Manny. I'm really proud of you._

Manny finds himself in the omega changing room, pulling his street clothes out of his locker and peeling off his soaked tank top, all on autopilot. He doesn't notice the laughing, or the footsteps that come up behind him. Then someone says his name.

"It's Manny right?"

Manny turns and sees two omegas leaning against the lockers across from his. A third omega is casually sitting back on the bench, hugging a slim leg to his chest. Manny can't help but fixate on their bodies. It's a bad habit that slithers to the surface every time Manny meets new people, especially omegas. They're all lean and pretty, wearing the kind of workout clothes Manny sees on billboard ads: latex shorts and sports bras and other skin-showy things that Manny would never dare try on.

"Hey…" Manny tries to subtly cross his arms over his lumpy chest, realizing belatedly that he's shirtless. He's _shirtless_ in front of _people_ and he thinks he should be more ashamed, should feel it wracking through his body like a possessing spirit, but mostly Manny just feels cold. "Did you guys have a good workout today?"

"Pretty much," the omega on the bench replies. A boy with curly golden hair and a sly smile. "Spencer rides us hard, but it's worth it. Do you think that's what he's like in bed?"

The other two omegas laugh. Manny mirrors their smiles with his own shaky attempt. "I wouldn't know."

"Of course you wouldn't," says one of the girl omegas.

"That's kind of what we wanted to talk to you about." The third omega glances at the others, as if seeking support. Something wordless seems to pass between them and she pushes on nervously, "We were wondering if you could stop hanging all over him. Spencer, I mean."

Manny blinks. "What?"

"You're a member, so he has to be polite, but we all see how he looks at you." The boy omega tilts his head sympathetically. "We just feel bad for him and we wanted to ask you on his behalf, since he's not allowed to do it himself." He lowers his chin, looking Manny dead in the eye. "Just stop. It's embarrassing."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Manny grits out, breathing unnaturally hard. "He's the one always starting conversations, and it's not like I even, I...I didn't come late on purpose."

The boy smiles coldly. "We all know that's a lie. You stay in the locker room longer than anyone else and you always take forever to change. Don't think we haven't noticed."

"Why would Spencer ever want a sweaty pig like you," mutters one of the girls. It's quiet, but with genuine force behind it.

"I never thought he would!" Manny bursts out. "I've never thought that about any alpha!"

It's silent. They're all staring at him, the three omegas and every single other one in the locker room. Manny doesn't just feel cold anymore. He's covered in ice, a numbness thawing through his limbs. He reaches for the towel he'd thrown on the bench and presses it against his chest wishing he could hide his stomach, hide himself. It was a cruel irony that the fatter he got, the harder it was to disappear.

"Well," says the boy cheerfully. "As long as you know."

"Come on," says a girl. "That workout fucking killed me. I need a milkshake."

They leave together, trailing the scent of sweet perfume after them, already twittering like the world has returned to normal. Stranded by himself, Manny slumps against his locker. It's funny...almost. That the milkshake comment hurt worse than anything else. He's been cutting back on junk food for weeks, but now he remembers how pointless it is. That he's a fat fuck, will always be a fat fuck, no matter how much he diets or exercises. That he'll never look like them.

He squeezes the towel so hard against him it feels like a second skin. It smells disgusting, sour sweat and onions. It's _Manny's_ smell. He's never going to let himself be naked in front of anyone ever again.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

"Manny." Spencer is smiling, casually bracing his arms on the front desk. There's a ballpoint pen behind his ear, a wet sheen to his temples, and freckles splashed across his nose. Manny hopelessly wants to kiss him. "What can I do for you?"

Manny glances around. He'd waited a long time in the locker room, wanting to make sure those omegas were long gone when he approached Spencer. Still, it's hard not to be paranoid. "I was wondering...How much longer will my membership last?"

"Let me see here." Spencer's tongue sticks out the side of his mouth as he taps something on the computer. "Looks like you've got another six weeks before it expires."

"Yeah, can I cancel it?"

"It'll cost one-fifty to renew—wait what?" Spencer's hand drops flat on the desk, making Manny flinch. "Why do you want to cancel?"

"Um," Manny says, torn between wishing Spencer was more professional and being giddy that Spencer cares that he's leaving. "I'm kind of in a financial situation right now and I guess it was a bad idea to sign up in the first place. Do you do refunds?"

"A financial situation, huh?" Spencer's tone is odd, like he knows Manny is bullshitting him. "Don't tell me your alpha is cutting you off."

Manny's gaze trickles downward. "I don't have an alpha…" When he looks up, Spencer is frowning.

"So you pay for everything yourself?"

"I work at my Tía Maria's restaurant." Manny smiles tightly. "Bussing tables since I was sixteen." He's got quite a bit of money saved up actually, but nothing close to what he needs for college. Alphas are supposed to pay for their omegas' education, if they want to. So no alpha means no college. Simple as that.

"Well, I'm really sorry to hear you're leaving," Spencer says, eyebrows furrowing. Manny knows he's delusional, yet he clings onto every kind word. "You've made such good progress since you've started here and I know you'd keep on improving the longer you stayed."

"I wish I—," Manny breaks off, heat crawling up his face as he looks into Spencer's steady, hazel eyes. "I wish I could stay. I've been needing something like this for a long time, and being here has helped me with my confidence, even if it's just a little bit. But like I said. The money."

"Hm." Spencer inhales deeply, as if he's coming to a decision. "If that's really the only thing, then you should take my card. I double as a personal trainer, did you know that?" He pulls something sleek from his pocket and presses it into Manny's hand,

"I had no idea," Manny examines the card, wide-eyed. Is it pathetic that this is the first time an alpha has given Manny their number?

"I try to keep it low-profile because I don't have enough spaces for every client that would like to join. I know a lot of people here enjoy my teaching style and I don't have the heart to turn each and every one of them down."

"But you have a space for me." It's not a question, it's a simple statement. The most certain Manny has sounded in their entire conversation.

"I'll make a space for you," Spencer grins. "I want to see you do good, Manny. I want you to see you glow with so much confidence that you light up the whole world for yourself."

"That's...really nice." Manny has to look away, lip caught between his teeth. He's remembering the locker room. Remembering reality and how Spencer must really feel about him. At best, Manny is just an extra paycheck to him, and at worst, he's a desperate omega being easily taken advantage of. "I'll have to think about it," Manny sighs, letting all his hopes out in one breath..

Spencer gives a good natured-nod. "I charge half as much as this place does, plus you'll get a lot more one-on-one time with me so we can focus on your specific needs. I also do diet plans and goal outlining, and, well," Spencer shrugs, the first time Manny's ever seen him look slightly self-conscious. "I don't want to force you into anything. I just don't want money to keep you from living the life you deserve."

"Thank you. For the offer and for everything else."

"Everything else?"

Manny burns with embarrassment. He can't believe he said that. Stumbling backward, tripping over his feet, he murmurs, "I—I promise I'll think about it."

He turns and speedwalks out the door.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

"I've got three empanada, three horchata, and a corn tortilla soup at table six!" Manny sticks the order card on the counter between the kitchen and the main area of the restaurant. No one responds, so he sighs and tucks his serving tray under his arm, heading back out into the fray.

Saturdays are their busiest day of the week. This one especially, since they're hosting two separate birthdays and they're down a server because Manny's cousin has dipped out on them yet again. Manny stares emptily out at the restaurant, the white noise garbled in his ears, scattering his brain. He hates it here but he could never just abandon his family.

" _Ay huevón_ ," snaps Tía Maria as she strides by, holding a tray of drink. "Go get table ten, they've been waiting on menus for fifteen minutes."

"Yes Tía." Manny grabs a small stack of menus and bustles over. "Sorry for the wait, what can I do for—," Manny stops short, their scents hitting him.

There's two occupants squeezed into the booth. An alpha and omega couple. The alpha's mouth is fixed into a foreboding line, watchful eyes on Manny. And his omega...

"Are you alright?" she asks, gazing up at him, and all Manny can see are the chubby chipmunk cheeks marring her face. Her alpha reaches around her shoulders to pull her against him and she melts, a misshapen glob against his side. She's _fat_. Fatter than _Manny_. He fights the sickening sensation climbing up his throat and clears it.

"Hi, I'm Manny and I'll be your server today." He hands a menu over to the alpha. "Can I take your drink orders?"

The alpha unfolds it and scans down the page. "Coffee for me, a diet coke for her," he says distractedly. His omega leans over to whisper something in his ear. "And a glass of water with no ice," he adds.

"Alright." The sensation is pooling in his stomach, heating to a boil. "I'll be back for your food orders soon."

Manny drifts back to the kitchen in a smoky haze. "One café, one diet, two waters," he tells Tío Esteban over the counter.

"What's the matter Manny?" his Tío asks."Your face is all patchy."

"It's that alpha in the corner," says a laughing voice coming up behind him. Manny turns to see his cousin Carmen spinning a tray in her hand, her waitress uniform pressed and clean. Apparently she didn't completely ditch out on work. Just came three hours late. Carmen's lips twist into a mocking smile, "Manny saw that alpha with the land whale omega and now he's getting wet because he thinks he has a chance."

"Shut the fuck up," Manny says, clenching his hands.

"Watch your mouth!" Tío Esteban snaps his fingers in Manny's face and he flinches away, face hot. "Carmen, serve these plates to table four. And Manny baby, if you want an alpha you have to be more sweet, more docile. No one wants a shrill omega swearing at them all day."

"Yeah baby Manny." Carmen smirks over her shoulder as she carries the plates away.

His family used to call him Manuel, or Emmanuel, after his great-grandfather. Then he presented omega and he became Manny. He hates how even his own name is used against him. Nothing about Manny is sacred or his own, everything he does is scrutinized and judged according to whether or not it pleases alphas. The image of the couple reappears, bitterly fresh in his mind.

He's seen slim and pretty omegas on the arms of overweight alphas enough times, but the reverse is rare for a reason. Manny wonders if that alpha resents her, if he has to fantasize about someone else while they're having sex. Manny wouldn't blame the alpha for cheating; it's the omega's fault. She should be maintaining her weight and always striving to look good for her alpha. But she hasn't, has been neglecting her purpose, yet she still has an alpha and Manny is so viscerally _jealous_ that he can't see straight. He can't concentrate on anything else except how much he hates her.

And the truth is he hates himself even more. Because what he's convinced himself is out of reach might be closer than he thinks.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

An hour after his shift has ended, Manny is sore and exhausted, hunched over on the beanbag chair in his apartment. One thing has been keeping him going all through his shift. Just one. He holds a sleek card in one hand, his phone in the other, thumb dialing out the number. Manny presses it to his ear and listens to it ring twice.

A click on the other line and then, "Hello? Who is this?"

"Uh, hi Spencer…" Manny feels any determination he'd built up quickly crumble away, along with his voice.

"Manny!' Spencer says, sounding pleased. Warmth pours into Manny's chest, clear and candied like honey. "So you've decided to sign up for one-on-one sessions?"

"Well I've been thinking about it, and yeah. I guess so."

"That's great to hear! If you haven't figured it out already, I've been dying to hear back from you. Are you ready to schedule your first session right now?"

Manny stares down at his lap, where his thighs are smooshed together like massive sausages. Disgusting. He's so tired of being himself, from his bitterness to his insecurity to his meek nature that keeps it all bottled up inside. But for now, he'll have to settle for exterior changes.

"Yeah let's do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you came here looking for smut haha! I promise we'll get there eventually. Because, you know. It's an A/B/O fic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I update so slowly >.>

Manny stumbles into his kitchen, a broom in one hand and a half-empty bottle of bleach in the other. He stuffs both of them under the sink and sends a wild glance over at the microwave. A quarter to nine. He roves his eyes over the shelves lined with snack foods, box after box of chips and crackers, the sugary cereals on the counter, the cookie jar next to the sink.

A pained whine escapes him.

He should've started here.

Manny goes for the shelves first, pulling down everything that might be considered junk. He's just grabbing a laundry basket—to haul all the stuff in—when the doorbell rings.

"Just a minute!" Manny calls, dropping his first armful of boxes into the basket.

He sprints down the hall, slides the basket into his bedroom, sprints back to the kitchen. Wasn't he forgetting something? It feels like he's forgetting something. His eyes land on the cookie jar and he quickly crams it into one of the cupboards.

When Manny opens the door, a bold surge of alpha scent invades his nose and he's relieved to find he hasn't been abandoned. Spencer is standing there waiting patiently. He looks gorgeous in casual clothes, a gym bag slung over his shoulder and a pair of faded jeans hugging his legs, which don't seem too practical for exercise but somehow Manny will live.

Spencer's grin spreads, smooth and slow, like warm butter. He lifts an eyebrow. "Am I interrupting something?"

Manny glances down at himself, flash of heat climbing up his face. He'd forgotten to change out of his cleaning clothes so Spencer gets to admire the whole mess: a bleach-stained t-shirt that drapes even Manny's plump body and the tiny pair of booty shorts he wears to bed, which have a nasty habit of riding up as he's walking. _Dios mío_ , if he turns around Spencer will get quite a view.

"Yeah sorry, I guess I slept in too late." Manny shuffles to the side, making room for Spencer to step past him. "Do you mind waiting in the kitchen while I change?"

"Of course not." Spencer's still smiling, but Manny doesn't understand how it could be possibly genuine. Ten seconds into their session and everything's already an awkward mess.

Manny points out the kitchen and tactfully walks behind Spencer until he can peel off into the hallway and disappear into his bedroom. He'd spent hours picking out his clothes the day before, hours he probably should've spent cleaning, but it all seems so pointless now that Spencer's seen him at his worst. He pulls on his chosen outfit anyway, his heart pounding in his chest, craving the confidence these clothes had given him earlier. When he glances at the wall mirror, all he can see is the worried face frowning back at him.

Back in the kitchen, Spencer has taken up a chair and is unhurriedly pulling papers from his bag. There's all kinds of charts and calendars and Manny is...dumbstruck. How far is this really going to go? He seriously doubts his ability to stick to any kind of regime; he never has before. But. Spencer's here, in his apartment. He can't back down just yet.

"You can take a seat by the way," Spencer says, cracking open a binder. Manny does as he's told, sweaty hands pressing together on his lap. "We're not going to be working out today," Spencer flicks his gaze up at Manny, bright with energy and singular focus. "I'm not dressed for it, for one. And I always use the first day to establish your baseline, and then set achievable goals for you. All that sound good?"

"Super."

"Let's start with standard measurements. Do you know your height and weight?"

Spencer sounds so casual, as if he isn't asking Manny to peel himself open and sever one of his most shameful secrets. But the longer Manny hesitates, the more meaning he adds to his answer, so he just blurts it out. "I'm five foot five...and two hundred and seventeen pounds."

He tenses, coiled for some kind of reaction. For Spencer's handsome face to contort with disgust and realization at how fat Manny really is. Instead Spencer scribbles on one of the papers and asks, "Any existing medical conditions?"

Those eyes on him again. Clear of cloudy judgment, like looking up at the sky on a sunny day. Manny's chest pangs. "Oh, not really. The rest of my family is pretty healthy, except our tendency to be, um, overweight. I mean, my doctor did say I have high blood pressure. And I have sleeping problems sometimes?"

Spencer is nodding, pen scratching along. "We'll get to diet habits soon, but first I want to talk about you personally. About why you're doing this and what you hope to achieve."

"Oh." Manny's breathing shallows out. "Okay."

"Don't look so nervous," Spencer continues, "As your trainer, it's inevitable I'll become intimately familiar with your progress and struggles. It's all part of becoming a healthier person." Spencer folds his arms on the table and leans forward slightly, his tone lowering to something resembling soothing. "If it makes you feel any better, I have this talk with every single one of my clients, a good number of whom are omegas. In my experience, many of them wrestle with the same expectations and frustrations. Please trust that I'm not going to hold you to any unrealistic standard. I'm only here to help."

Manny pinches his lips. Nods, because he has to, and wishes he could be somewhere else.

"As to why I'm doing this," Manny mumbles, "It's not so much about becoming healthier. I just want to stop feeling _this_ way about myself." Manny doesn't know what other word to use, so by _this_ , he means _everything_. All the black and bruised feelings that swarm his skin and devour him each time he sees his reflection. "I wish I could stop agonizing about my body. How it looks, how my clothes fit, how other people see me. It's _all the time_ and I'm so sick of it consuming me. I never want to think about my weight again. I want to be so skinny that when someone looks at me, they don't think about it either." A shadow of embarrassment creeps up on him, darkening the brightly lit kitchen. His outburst is over, his volume fading with it, "I know that's not much of an achievement to hope for."

When he looks up he's met with a softness in Spencer's expression that makes his heart stutter. Manny tries to crush the sticky sweet feelings stirring in his chest, before they swell into something he can't control.

After a long pause, Spencer asks, "Do you really think you need to be skinny for someone to look at you like that?"

Manny doesn't answer. He's looking pointedly away, vision blurred at the edges. He's still reeling from his little speech, which came out more honest than he'd ever meant it to, and now it's taking every particle of his willpower to control himself.

Spencer, thankfully, takes the hint and changes the subject. They talk about planning for a healthy diet, and touch on Manny's admittedly poor food choices. Spencer gives Manny a chart, recommending he fill it out with everything he eats for a whole week just to get an idea of his calorie intake. Spencer also leaves him with daily exercises to do on his own, all very simple things, and they agree to meet three times a week to see how it goes.

"Oh right I almost forgot," Spencer says, halting once his bag has been packed and he's stood up to leave. He pulls out his iPhone, cheeky grin stretched across his face. "It's sort of a training tradition. I need to take a 'before' picture of you, so you can look back and see your progress. If that's alright with you obviously."

Manny can't let that beautiful grin disappear, so he nods, and Spencer backs up to get his whole body in the shot. Manny's lips press together in an awkward smile. The camera flash goes off.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

The clean-up shift at the restaurant is bad enough on its own. Having to do it by himself? Fucking infuriating. He scrubs the mop across the floor, listening to the mingling voices and drunken laughter behind him. Because Manny's not actually alone. There's a single table in the restaurant occupied by a group of college kids: Carmen and her friends. Carmen, who's supposed to be helping Manny out and not draining the restaurant's alcohol supply.

Manny leans the mop up against the wall, grabs a tray and approaches the table. They've each got a hand of cards, tucked close and secret to their chests. An expensive looking pot is piled in the middle of the table, though Manny isn't particularly tempted. He's not a fan of poker in the best of times.

"Carmen," he begins tentatively. He picks up an empty glass from one of her friends and balances it on the tray.

Her eyes shift away from her cards, sultry slow, settling on Manny. They're the same coffee brown color Manny sees in the mirror. Same curly black hair too, though hers is much longer, falling in thick waves down her back. "Not now Manny," she sighs, tugging one card up above the others, pushing it back down. "We're having fun."

He frowns at her tone. Stews over his next choice of words then tries again, "Look, I'd really appreciate it if you'd—"

Carmen groans, throwing her head back. "I don't care. I'm not going to. So why don't you quit your bitching and get back to work?" 

A couple of her friends laugh. Manny stands there for a moment, mouth working silently, a million things to say but nothing willing to come out. It seems Carmen really couldn't care less. She folds her cards with a curse, strewning them across the table and grabbing for another beer.

Manny snaps his mouth shut. What's the point. Just what the fuck is the point.

"Hey Manny," some asshole alpha interrupts. Patrick, Manny thinks his name is. One of Carmen's closer friends. "Why don't you take a seat and just chill out for awhile? We're about to start a new game."

Manny is too fed up to even acknowledge that idiotic suggestion. He rounds the table, picking up all their other empty glasses, and storms back into the kitchen. He loads them into the dishwasher about as violently as he can without breaking them, then slams the door shut.

His breath is sawing in and out of his chest. Manny places a hand on the cool countertop, letting it seep into his searing hot bloodstream. He inhales deeply.

 _Fifteen lunges on each leg_ , Spencer had suggested. _Start with one leg forward and switch each time_.

Well if he isn't getting home until midnight, he might as well do them now. Now that he knows for sure Carmen won't be coming into the kitchen to help. Manny centers himself in the middle of the room, feeling dorky and dumb. He lunges with his right leg, bending the knee, shifting his weight forward. Then straightens up, does the other leg. Repeat, repeat. Until his breathing slows.

At least she didn't call him jealous. Then they all would've laughed. Lucky betas and alphas, going to college, getting to meet new people and shape their own futures. In a way, Manny understands Carmen's apathy for the restaurant. He glances to the side, staring vacantly at the dishwasher as it whirs and sloshes to life.

In ten years, Manny will still be here. This place is his future. But Carmen? Ten years could take her anywhere.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

Manny has a bad habit of snatching whatever looks good off of store shelves, food groups and nutritional value be damned, his growling stomach sitting firm and solid in the driver's seat. He's certainly never shopped at an organic market before. Rolling his shopping cart by dried rice cakes and trail mix and chia seeds, he decides to make it more of a habit. His appetite is a dead shrivelled thing, probably rotting in the parking lot.

He's decided that if he's going to fill out that meal chart and show it to Spencer, no way is he gonna eat all the crap he usually does. Spencer will see right through it, Manny knows. And he'll probably congratulate Manny, be sunshine bright at the thought of Manny eating healthier. Manny will feel like shit for being fake and desperate...but he'd feel even worse if Spencer ever saw what he actually consumes on a weekly basis.

What he _used_ to consume, he reminds himself, coming to a halt in front of the rows of lettuce. Mist spray is clinging to the air, cool droplets condensing on Manny's lashes. He rapidly blinks them away, surveying his choices… _Romaine, Butterhead, Iceberg_. Has he ever made salad from scratch before?

"Anyway, if you want to get the best pick of the produce, Wednesday's your day," someone says loudly, making Manny prick up his head.

"That's alright," replies a softer voice. "Thanks for all your help. I think I can take it from here."

A few feet to Manny's left, a shockingly slender omega is standing at the carrot section, his creamy-pink arms folded and resting on his shopping cart. An employee is hovering nearby, who, judging from his lack of scent, is most likely a beta.

"It's no trouble at all," the beta is saying. "In fact, it's part of the job description. My name's Noah by the way. What's yours?"

A pause. "Seth," the omega says, slowly.

"Cute and simple," Noah chuckles, swaying in Manny's peripherals. "Well Seth, why don't you show me your grocery list and I'll be more than happy to help you find everything you need."

"That's so nice of you, I-I just can't accept."

"Yes it _is_ nice," Noah says, smooth voice punctured by something sharp. "So it'd be rude to turn me down."

"Excuse me," Manny cuts in. They both turn to stare at him, the omega wearing a dazed expression and the beta's mouth tightening. "I was looking for the rice cakes, but, um...the whole shelf was empty?" _Dumb_ , Manny thinks to himself, _can't you think of anything better?_

Noah exhales through his nose. Refocuses on the omega, Seth, as if making sure he doesn't move, and speaks to Manny without making eye contact. "Then we're out. You'll have to come back another day."

"Couldn't there be more boxes in the back?" 

"No," Noah says flatly, staring him down. His face is utterly blank with contempt.

Manny wants to shrink back, disappear, never show his face here again. But then he sees the same emotions chase across Seth's expression: anxiety and fear and dread. It's enough for Manny to find his voice again, "Well how would you know if you haven't checked?"

Before Noah can bite back, Seth places a dainty hand on his tensed shoulders. "Please," he says, sweet and pleading. "Won't you check? I want to buy rice cakes too."

Noah's eyes linger for a moment on Seth's face. He shakes his head, relenting, "Okay, okay. I'll go check. If you promise to wait here for me?"

Seth smiles and apparently that's all it takes. They watch Noah head toward the back of the store, Manny deflating with relief, all the confidence he'd somehow summoned blowing to dust. Back to lettuce heads and second rate salads…

"Thank you."

Manny blinks. Seth is smiling at him. Not pouty-lipped and subtle like he had at Noah. A real smile, bloomed wide and open across his face, a dimple tweaked in his right cheek. With his golden hair framing his features like that, and that rosy hue kissed across his nose…

 _Oh_ , Manny realizes, jealousy knotting uncomfortably in his gut.

"Yeah...I'm glad to help. If you wanted it?"

"I _needed_ it," Seth says, beginning to sort through vegetables, stuffing a chosen few into plastic bags. He picks and chooses with the practiced ease of experience, and Manny just stands there studying him. "Don't you hate it when they do that?"

"Um. Do what?"

"Follow you. Hit on you. When you reject them politely and they still won't leave you alone?"

"Yeah it sucks," agrees Manny, who has never been pursued by anyone in his entire life. And maybe, just a little, might enjoy experiencing it firsthand.

"Especially betas," Seth clicks his tongue, "As if he even had a chance. Like, never dude, not in a million years. Name's Seth, if you didn't catch it."

"Manny."

"My hero," Seth grins easy now that they're alone. His blue eyes fall to Manny's empty shopping cart. "Guess it's my turn to help you. What kind of produce are you shopping for?"

After following Manny all around the store and chatting up a storm, Seth gets behind him at the checkout line too. Manny isn't the most social of butterflies (more like a nocturnal moth), but Seth is breezy enough to break down his guard. It's hard to feel embarrassed in front of someone who loudly and unapologetically talks about his habit of sleeping naked and living in a commune.

"It's not like we're hippies or anything," Seth is telling him, though as far as Manny can tell, it's _exactly_ like that. "We just want to get away from the unfulfilling work and cheap pleasures of a Capitalist lifestyle. Get it?"

"Yeah sure. So how do you manage your, um, cycles? Wouldn't your scent fill up the whole place pretty fast? I mean...unless you take suppressants..."

Seth laughs, light and pillow soft. "No way am I ever swallowing one of those poison pills. That chemical crap gives you cancer, and besides, they probably don't even work. Nah, I grab a hotel room with a choice alpha and we have some fun together."

Seth makes it sound so easy. But Manny, who had spent his last heat holed up in his room, leaking slick all over the sheets and sobbing with desperation, can say for certain that suppressants work for what they are; suppressing scent and not much else.

"Your receipt," the cashier says, tearing it off.

Fifty bucks worth of food fitting into two paper bags is a definite strike against the store. Still, Manny has a feeling he'll be back soon. Walking out with Seth, an alpha steps in to hold the door for them. Seth pays the alpha a brief smile and continues talking to Manny as if this kind of treatment is expected. Manny imagines it is, for most omegas. Another shot of jealousy, tickling his veins.

"Where you off to?" Seth asks, stepping off the curb. Manny stays on the sidewalk, clutching his bags. "Do you need a ride? I don’t mind driving."

"I should walk." Manny is thinking of Spencer and their session scheduled tomorrow. "My apartment's really close, actually. Just a few minutes away."

Seth shrugs and gives him a wave over his shoulder. "Well it was nice meeting you!”

Manny watches after him, smile haunting his lips. It was a lot more than _nice_. It's been forever since he hit it off with anyone and he's still kind of floating from it. He hates those little stabs of envy more than anything, always poking the surface and ruining his chances for...something more. He starts off on his own, the sun dipping below the clouds and licking the back of his neck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Just wanted to thank you all for the very sweet reviews and every single kudos on this story. They helped motivate me to keep writing when I got stuck and seeing each one warmed my heart. Anyway, onto the story :)

"You're doing great, only a quarter of a mile left. Think you can make it?"

Manny hopes Spencer doesn't actually expect an answer to that. He. Can't. Breathe. And the fact that Manny is still moving forward, loping along at an uneven jog, should be answer enough.

"Come on, we're almost there."

Manny huffs out a particularly harsh breath. Easy for him to say. As far as Manny can tell, Spencer hasn't even broken a sweat since they started this "easy jog" around the park. He tries to focus on something else and nothing at all at the same time. Keeps on stabbing his legs forward, keeps on moving, Spencer's voice cheering him on from another world away.

_Almost, almost, there…_

"Hey. Manny." There's a weight on his shoulder, pulling him around. And suddenly Spencer is so close Manny can feel his calm breathing stir against his face. "That's it, we've made it. You should take it easy now, you're breathing pretty hard. Here," Spencer unscrews the water bottle he's been holding for Manny and hands it over. "Drink it slow, understand?"

Manny tries to do as he's told, but some water still ends up trickling down his chin, spilling on his shirt. He wipes his mouth and swallows dryly. His whole body is throbbing, hot and sweaty and gross, like a freshly harvested organ. He tips back the bottle again for round two.

For a minute, Spencer watches intently as Manny pants and sways on his feet. "You really can't talk huh? I guess that's my fault. Shouldn't have pushed you so hard."

Manny has just enough strength to shake his head. _No, not your fault._ He hears a low laugh that must belong to Spencer. And then there’s a hand on his elbow, guiding him forward, until Manny feels a cool blanket of shade throw over his back.

"Let's rest up for awhile," Spencer says, adding a light pressure to Manny's shoulder. "You earned it."

That's more than enough permission for Manny. His legs give out and he slumps down to the ground, collapsing onto his back. The wet grass flattens under his already damp shirt and he gazes up at the canopy of leaves far above, sun-painted and harlequin green.

Manny exhales, feeling the tension leak out of him. Something else is filling in the space left behind. Bone-solid satisfaction.

Spencer settles in nearby, resting his back against a tree trunk. "If you're not too grossed out by sharing spit, mind if I take a drink?"

It takes Manny a second to process what Spencer is asking. And when he does, he almost snorts at the absurdity. Sharing spit with Spencer is about the last thing in the world Manny would mind. He hands over the bottle without a word and Spencer drains the rest of it, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Watching him, Manny's mouth suddenly feels dry again.

Spencer smacks his lips and lets out a rusty, "Ahh. Nothing like water."

"I miss soda," Manny says wistfully. "Orange Crush and 7up."

"Yeah, I know it sucks at first. But you'll get used to it. Believe me."

Manny tips his head back to stare. Spencer’s sandy hair is wind ruffled from their run, rumpled spikes sticking up in an artful, golden mess. His running shorts slope down his muscular thighs, fabric pooling in the middle and outlining a faint bulge. It doesn't take much imagination to see that Spencer is big and Manny's eyes immediately dart back up to his face, stinging with shame. Spencer is gazing off toward the baseball field, where the sounds of squeaky teenaged shouting are broken by the occasional crack of a bat.

"Um, I was wondering," Manny begins, unsure if he should just drop it. "What made you decide to do this whole trainer thing? Were you always like so. So healthy?"

Spencer drums his fingers on his knee. "Well, when I was a kid I was always stuffing my face with junk food. So to answer your question; no, I wasn't. I went through a big soda phase in junior high. Got addicted to those surfboard-shaped cookies with uh. I think chocolate in the middle."

"Milanos?"

"Yeah, Milanos," Spencer grins at him. "Holy fuck those things are good. I haven't had one in years."

"So were you ever...you know?" Manny bites his lip. He curses himself for even bringing it up but it's too late, so the last word just drags off his tongue, "...Fat?"

"No, I wasn't," Spencer replies. _Of course_ , Manny thinks. "I easily could've been though. I was lucky I did a lot of sports and had a superpowered metabolism. Like you, the rest of my family was generally pretty heavy and it started catching up with me in college. That's when I started making lifestyle changes, tried to help my family members do the same...and now I'm here."

"That's sweet," Manny says, itching at his curls. The layer of sweat on his skin has transitioned from uncomfortable to a warm, welcome sensation, and he's descending into a state of ease."Are you close with your family?"

"For the most part." Spencer sounds distant again, or maybe Manny's the one drifting away.

He's vaguely aware of Spencer's eyes on him as he yawns, scrunching up his nose. Manny turns over on his side, the sun’s heat lolling down on him. He can still feel the workout thrumming through him, though the ache in his muscles is vanishing, melting into sweet.

"Go ahead,” Spencer murmurs.

And Manny’s heavy lids fall shut.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

He starts awake with a twitch.

Manny's acutely aware of several things at once. The sloppy line of drool smeared down his chin. The warm, cradling pillow under his head. And the thick, forceful scent of _alpha_ surrounding him. It's so addicting, Manny forgets everything else and buries his face into the pillow, desperate for more. He inhales deeply and it rockets up to his brain, makes him go omega-limp, ready for an alpha to use him.

He's trembling as he lifts his head. Spencer is exactly where he last saw him: back against the tree, elbow resting on a bent knee. His head is comfortably tilted toward Manny.

"Awake at last, sleeping beauty?"

"Mmm," Manny mumbles. He sniffs the pillow again. "What is…?"

"My jacket. You look like you needed it."

A little jolt goes through Manny. His senses sharpen and he pushes up into a sitting position, the rumpled jacket lying on the ground like an accusation. "S-sorry," Manny stutters, cheeks burning. "I—um, I think I drooled on it a little. God I'm gross. I hope it's not new or anything?"

"Don't worry about it, it's just drool." Spencer gets to his feet. He dusts himself off a bit and gathers up his jacket. "I'm glad you got some rest, but we should probably head back now. Before the mosquitoes come out." He offers a hand and Manny takes it, blinking at the unfamiliar world around him. The baseball field is empty. The paths are mostly deserted, save for a lone biker, and the sky is ripening to a blood orange.

"How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour. Probably longer."

"God," Manny mumbles, following Spencer back onto the path, legs stiff and sore. "You should've woken me up, I wouldn't have minded. I'm sorry for wasting your whole afternoon. Um, I can pay you for the extra time—"

"Manny. Seriously, don't worry about it. It was my choice to stick around and I really didn't mind." Spencer gives him a steady, clear-eyed look that makes the wires in Manny's brain short circuit. "You got that?"

"Yeah," Manny breathes.

"It was kind of my responsibility anyway," Spencer says. "After I worked you until you passed out."

"No, it wasn't that! I just fell asleep because I didn't get that much last night. I'm really—"

"Don't apologize," Spencer says and Manny's mouth snaps shut. Amusement ripples across Spencer's face. "Didn't mean to startle you. But you don't have to apologize for things that aren't your fault."

"Yeah, I know...I'm—"

"Manny."

"Okay."

A laugh trips out of Manny's throat, dry and scratchy. Spencer arches a brow as it turns into coughing, and Manny covers his mouth with his arm. When it passes, Manny's voice sounds dusty. "Can I have some water?"

Spencer's grin falls, good humor vanishing. "Ah shit. I finished it awhile ago."

"S'alright," Manny wheezes. "I can wait 'til I'm back home."

Spencer seems not to have heard. Before Manny can protest, Spencer has jogged up to the nearest ice cream stand and is speaking to the vendor. He comes back a minute later, frowning. "Guy said he only sold sodas. I could still buy you one, if you want."

"You don't have to—"

“You’re thirsty,” Spencer says, kind of intensely. “We need to find something to drink.”

Manny is just about to open his mouth again when it hits him. Why Spencer is acting like this. He remembers going to the Grand Canyon when he was little, getting dizzy with hunger and heat, and his father starting a fight with another hiker, literally ripping open his backpack to find some energy bars for Manny. This is alpha instinct in action. _Taking care of a needy omega._

Manny feels another surge of heat course through his body, as if he'd taken another snort of Spencer's jacket. The close proximity of an alpha is starting to sizzle over his skin and a sudden longing claws at him, pleading him to give into his own instincts. To keep his eyes low, head down, neck exposed. _Whatever he wants._

"Um yeah, okay," Manny says, wobbly. "Can we please hurry? My throat hurts pretty bad."

Spencer's jaw sets and he nods. Something warm and guilty blooms in Manny's stomach, like a sickly flower. _This is the most you'll ever get,_ a part of him mutters darkly. _So why shouldn't you enjoy it?_

They find a juice bar down the road, with a diverse menu and a collection of outdoor tables. Faded sunlight sparkles dully off the metal chairs and Manny wonders if he's dreaming, or if everything really has gone mushy soft around the edges

"Anything you want," Spencer says, holding out a twenty to the barista. "My treat."

A few minutes later, Manny is sipping a kale pineapple smoothie, pretending he isn't absolutely giddy at this arrangement. Having Spencer seated across from him, sharing their own private table. Though Spencer doesn't look half as pleased.

"How are you feeling?" Spencer asks, studying him closely.

Manny licks his lips, tongue tanging with pineapple. "Okay now. Thanks for this, it's the best thing I've tasted in awhile. I know it probably has a lot of sugar in it but, um, I promise I'll eat extra healthy for the rest of the week."

"As long as you're not hurting anymore." Spencer gives him a wry smile. "I never expected you to go cold turkey all at once, you know. So don't beat yourself up for cheating on your new diet. Better to think of it as a new lifestyle. When you veer off, the most important thing is getting back on the road."

"Right." Manny toys with his straw. "So. Since this is uh, a lifestyle thing, like you said. That means I'll need to keep training for the rest of my life?"

Spencer eases back into his seat, alpha demeanor melting away, and Manny is only a little disappointed. "No, not at all. If you put it in the work now all this stuff will become habit. And when the future comes, it should be the easiest part. I wouldn't worry about it."

Manny squirms in his seat. "I wasn't worried about _that_. I was, um. Well I was thinking about how much you've helped me and how nice it would be to always have you there. Uh, in case I slip up or...I don't know, decide to give up for whatever reason." Manny takes a deep breath. Spencer is watching him, expression as patient and open as it's ever been, and it's the only thing that pushes him onward.

"So I've been wondering...Do you have some kind of time frame on how long you work with a client? Like a certain weight goal or…" Manny bites his cheek, forcing himself to stop before he completely goes off the deep end.

"I'll be with you as long as you need me," Spencer says solemnly. "Eventually, you won't though."

It scares Manny how confident he sounds. He glares at the glass in front of him, nearly empty except for the sickly green ice shards melting at the bottom. There's a question chewing between his teeth, stretched over the tip of his tongue.

And it just pops out. "Do you treat all your clients like this?"

"You mean treat them to a smoothie?"

"Um, yeah. And your jacket too..."

Spencer huffs, light-hearted and charming. "Well I wouldn't do all that for an alpha, you're right about that. Gavin Raltz would probably throw a punch at me if I tried," Spencer says, chuckling. Then his expression smoothes out, softens over. "To be honest, I don't think I'd do it for my beta clients either."

"So you'd only do it for your omegas." Manny tries to crush the envy out of his voice. "Any one of them."

"I believe there's a certain...dynamic between an alpha and omega. I've felt it with every omega I've ever met. My family members, my friends, my clients. And it's there between me and you."

It isn't a question, Manny knows. Still, he finds himself nodding along.

"When I'm with you," Spencer says soberly, "I feel responsible for your wellbeing. That's the gist of it."

Manny's gaze drops, warmth swirling and spreading through his chest. "Oh."

Spencer's tone morphs, from confident to careful as glass. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable though. Next time I'll try to refrain from treating you any differently."

Manny's head jerks up. "No no no, it's the opposite really, um. It's like, well...It makes me feel safe." Manny wants to duck down, panic swelling. Instead he forces his chin up. "Please," he emphasizes. "Don't stop."

The day really has gone now, stealing away the green-gold flecks in Spencer's eyes. All that's left is a void of brown, dark and unreadable. The only sound is the wind purring and Manny doesn't dare interrupt it. He is frozen in his seat.

"Alright," Spencer says after a long pause. "I won't. Are you ready to go?"


End file.
